


Clean or Unclean

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, M/M, Soul-Bonding, but I really really like playing with the concept of soul-bonding so I'm okay with that, but somehow my smut always seems to dissolve into poetic descriptions of soul-bonding..., i'll be honest - part of the reason I wrote this was to practice writing smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to Angband after a lengthy mission, the first thing Mairon seeks is a hot bath.  Melkor, eager to welcome his husband home, joins him.</p><p>Written for the AngbangFluffyFeb prompt, "bathing".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean or Unclean

Mairon sank deeply into his bath, sighing contentedly as the heat of it seeped into his travel-weary muscles.  He traced a hand lazily along the water’s surface.  The bathwater was salted and spiced to perfection, silkily slick with luxurious oils, and hot.  Oh, so delightfully hot.  So hot it had scalded the slave who had drawn it for him.  It had been weeks since he’d gotten a _proper_ bath like this.  Mairon nearly purred with the pleasure of it.

He gently loosed his hair from the braid that held it bound.  Long ginger waves floated upon the water’s surface, slowly dampening and sinking.  Mairon leaned back against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes, settling in to soak.

It was not long before Mairon felt someone approaching from behind.  He had no need to look to determine who stood now beside the bath; it was a presence he knew well.  “Master,” Mairon greeted softly.

“Mairon,” Melkor answered in response.  “I am glad to see you have returned safely.  But why did you not report to me first when you arrived?”  Mild displeasure colored his dark voice, but it was tempered with something akin to relief.

“I wanted make myself clean before I presented myself to you, my Lord,” Mairon replied fluidly.

“Hmph,” Melkor breathed softly behind him.  “And when have I ever minded whether or not you were clean when you came to me?” he asked, dipping his hands into the water to lay them on Mairon’s shoulders.

“Mmh,” Mairon hummed as his husband began to massage the stiff muscles of his neck.  “Never, my Lord,” he answered truthfully.  Candlelight played across his closed eyelids as he enjoyed the touch of his beloved’s hands.

“I would have you come to me first,” Melkor affirmed, kissing the top of Mairon’s head, “clean or unclean.  Always.” His hands stilled and drew back. “But since you are already here…” Mairon heard the slip and slump of clothing, removed and dropped onto the tiled floor, felt the swirling of the water against his skin as Melkor lowered himself into the other end of the bathtub.  The basin was large enough to fit both of them comfortably.

Mairon opened his eyes to gaze at his master.  Melkor held out a hand, its blackened palm open and upward, offering.  “…I would not be opposed if you came to me as you are now,” Melkor finished his sentence.

Mairon smiled in response, and moved, lifting himself and gliding through the steaming water to come to rest in Melkor’s lap.  He took the offered hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing the singed flesh that retained enough sensitivity to appreciate his touch.  

Melkor curled his fingers gently around Mairon’s chin, drawing his face closer to kiss his lips. His other hand stayed beneath the water, gripping Mairon’s hip.  Mairon had missed this in his time away, the simple pleasure of his husband’s kiss, the closeness that being together allowed.  He leaned in gratefully, his hands resting lightly against Melkor’s chest.

The kiss deepened, and Melkor’s hands began to wander, slipping down from Mairon’s hips to caress his ass.  His lips left Mairon’s to trace down his neck.  “You’ve been gone far too long,” Melkor observed between kisses.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Mairon replied, content to be still for the moment, reveling in his master’s touch. “The mission was…”  His sentence was broken by a quiet gasp as Melkor’s teeth nipped lightly at his collarbone.  “…a necessary one,” he concluded.  As Melkor continued to knead at the Maia’s backside, Mairon felt a flush spreading over his face that had little to do with the heat of the bath. Melkor smiled against his skin.

Mairon watched as one of Melkor’s hands rose again above the water.  It skimmed across the surface, gathering as it went, tiny drops of the bath oils that floated on top, emulsified, before dipping back down again. Mairon moaned softly as Melkor slowly slid into him a single oil-slicked finger.

Melkor moved within him unhurriedly, stroking gently, smoothly, while his mouth worked leisurely at Mairon’s front and his second hand trailed up Mairon’s back, holding him steadied.  Soft mewls of appreciation slipped from Mairon’s throat to mingle with the sounds of the water that lapped about them, agitated by their movement.  Melkor undid him slowly, deliberately.  Mairon could feel himself unraveling, all tensions and stresses of his absence melting away, as he let himself be lost in the sensations, the wet, warm want, and the glorious heat that surrounded him and filled him.

Melkor turned his head to suck at one of Mairon’s nipples, rolling it in lazy circles upon his tongue. “Mm, Master, I missed you,” Mairon managed to moan.

Melkor nipped gently at the tender flesh.  “Someday,” he promised.  “Someday, when our enemies are defeated, you shall never have to miss me again.  Nor I you.”  

Mairon’s back arched sharply as his husband slid a second finger into him.  Melkor’s mouth came up to press openly upon the skin of Mairon’s exposed throat, as Mairon tilted his head back further to allow him, panting softly. Words had all fallen away.  Mairon’s hands clutched at the sides of the tub. His hips seemed to have gained a will of their own, moving now in time with the slow, steady rhythm Melkor had set.

Mairon caught Melkor’s mouth with his own, kissing him needily as he urged forward their pace, pushed by the building desire that burned ever hotter within him.  Mairon tasted salt on Melkor’s lips, drawn from the Maia’s skin, from the waters of the bath.  Melkor responded with gradual increase, pressing faster, deeper, more fully into his husband’s wanting body.  Wordless supplication fell in pleasure-strained voice from Mairon’s mouth, and Melkor caught each note upon his tongue, even unto his final cry, drawn out in a shuddering vibrato.

Melkor gathered his husband’s body into his arms, a satisfied hum sounding deep in his chest. Satiated, Mairon leaned against him languorously, his arms draping around Melkor’s neck.  He nuzzled lazily against his master’s skin, closing his eyes and taking in his scent, mingled with the spice and salt and scented oils of the bath.  Enjoying the soothing sensation of Melkor gently stroking his hair, Mairon allowed himself to doze awhile, content in the warmth of the water and the presence of his beloved one.

As full wakefulness eased back into Mairon’s mind, he pulled himself gently from Melkor’s embrace. Leaning back, he dipped his head beneath the water, running hands through his hair to wet it thoroughly.  Resurfacing, he moved to reach for a bottle of shampoo, but Melkor’s gaze first caught his eye.  The glint in those dark eyes offered him a better idea.  

Mairon watched his husband watching him, as he combed his fingers through long, damp tresses, darkened by water to a shade of burned cinnamon.  He sidled back toward Melkor, dipping a hand between his beloved’s legs to caress the length that hardened there.

“If there is something you want, my Lord,” Mairon murmured enticingly, his eyes close and locked with Melkor’s, “you need only ask.”  He ran his fingertips lightly along the shaft in a way that quickened Melkor’s breath.

Without warning, Melkor stood, scooping Mairon up in his arms, and lifting him from the water.  He stepped carefully from the bathtub and walked toward the doorway that led to their adjacent bedchamber, carrying his very wet and naked husband along with him.

“Master,” Mairon protested mildly, “I have not yet even washed my hair…”

Melkor laughed, depositing the rather bedraggled Maia onto their bed.  “I told you, my precious lieutenant,” he reminded Mairon, climbing up after him, “I will have you, clean or unclean – it makes no difference to me.” He loomed over Mairon, dripping, taking in the sight of Mairon’s long wet hair splayed over their pillows, before leaning down to take Mairon’s mouth in a kiss.

Mairon hummed with enjoyment as he kissed his husband back.  Their bodies moved slickly against one another, still wet with bathwater and oils. Mairon felt his hips being lifted up off the damp bedsheets.  His legs spread apart willingly.  Melkor groaned as he slid into his husband, breaking the kiss that had held their lips locked.  Mairon moaned happily in answer, clinging to him.  He felt the bath-soaked tips of Melkor’s long, dark hair trail across his chest as Melkor began to move.

Mairon’s body reacted eagerly to Melkor’s rhythmic thrusts, moving in tandem as his spirit reveled in the familiar sensation of their two souls blending, merging, seeking that full communion of unity that could only be achieved by this.  The warmth of it was greater than the waves of physical pleasure that crashed over him.  They enhanced one another, the physical and the spiritual, each aspects of the whole, expressions of desire and devotion.  Of love, in its truest form.  

Love.  They rarely said the word aloud; they did not need to. It was evident and tangible through the bond they shared.  Mairon could feel it radiating into him from the depths of Melkor’s being, as his own soul replied with equal fervor.  And it was caught and mingled, fused in their joining, to burn hotter and brighter than any light or gem.  It cascaded through Mairon’s mind, spilling about them in a splendorous crash, as their bodies’ pleasure crested and broke.

Their love lay about them in a lingering glow as they breathed and reclined upon damp bedding, skin pressed against skin.  Mairon shivered as the warmth began to fade.  Melkor drew him closer, placing a kiss upon his wet hair.  “I’ll have the servants draw you a fresh bath,” he murmured against Mairon’s scalp.

Mairon tilted his head and replied with a kiss to his husbands lips.  “And have them change the bedding as well,” he added, slipping out of bed to obtain a towel.  “I’m not sleeping in this.”

He heard Melkor laugh softly as he followed Mairon into their bath chamber.  His master lifted a towel from the shelf and draped it across Mairon’s shoulders, kissing again the top of Mairon’s head.  “Welcome home, my love,” he murmured.  “I’ve missed you.”


End file.
